


Trimming the Tree

by shieldivarius



Series: Femslash Yuletide 2014 [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Femslash Yuletide, Prompt: Trimming the Tree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldivarius/pseuds/shieldivarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melinda and Natasha take a brisk, winter's day walk through the city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trimming the Tree

**Author's Note:**

> All of the Melinda/Natasha stories in this year's Femslash Yuletide are in the same universe and chronological unless stated otherwise!

Cold air rushed down in gales from the tops of the skyscrapers lining the streets around Natasha, catching the hem of her coat and tossing it open with a gust that blew straight up, over her chest and higher, only to get caught in her scarf in its attempt to escape between her lapels. A chilly visitor, warmer than seasonal but still the hint of Jack Frost’s fingernails scraping against skin, teasing a firmer touch to chase away the rest of the scorching summer weather.

“They’re starting to put the tree up,” Melinda observed next to her. 

Natasha glanced over, toward the beeping and clanging that had fallen so much in the background as just another big city noise. An enormous spruce tree, its full branches green and lush with growth, was strapped to the pulleys of a crane and being carefully, painstakingly, raised into position in the centre of the square. Too many people stood around gawking, blocking up the sidewalk in all three directions around them. 

“So they are,” she replied.

That earned her a raised eyebrow, Melinda’s expression telling in its being the littlest hint judgemental. 

“Not a fan?” 

“Not a tourist.” One or two heads turned toward them, and a blonde woman in a pink parka—fur-lined hood and all, the coat far too heavy for the weather—had an offended crease across her brow. 

Melinda nudged her with the tip of her elbow, the barest graze against the side of her coat. 

“Don’t pretend you’re enjoying this crowd,” Natasha said.

“I won’t,” Melinda said. Then, “But putting up a tree is something to think about.” 

Natasha paused in ducking around a man and his three children (all under five, one hanging from around his neck and flailing her feet around in the air behind her, not always missing passersby) to look over at her—to really, truly look this time. 

Melinda wore a contented expression, one that was more than a little born from teasing Natasha, but that also took in the lights that had already been strung around them, and the huge tree off to their right—now being lowered into its stand to be secured in place—and that looked settled and relaxed and at home.

“In your apartment?” Natasha asked delicately, because this was a thing that normal people did. They brought once-live trees into their homes and decorated them, and just because Natasha might look on it as a custom she didn’t need to partake in, didn’t mean that everyone in her life did.

“Next to the balcony door, in that corner there. What do you think?”

“If you’d like,” Natasha said, and slid behind the child in a moment when she stopped long enough in her kicking to pant at the effort. 

“Please, sound more non-committal,” Melinda said. 

Natasha let a noise of understanding escape her throat to get lost in the noise of the crowd around them. “I didn’t realize you wanted my enthusiasm,” she said.

Melinda came abreast of her in a gap in the crowd. “I at least want it to be something you’d be willing to do together,” she said. “Without me bullying you into it.”

Natasha looked back toward the crane raising the tree. Its narrow top arced back and forth as the wind urged it to fight against its restraint and free fall to the pavement below. 

She paused, narrowed her eyes and focused in further on the shaking. It wasn’t the wind threatening to release the tree to come crashing down on the crowd below. The branches shook against the wind, not obvious at first glance but clear enough when the top stopped its waving but the shaking of the branches below continued on.

“There’s something in the tree,” she said. 

Melinda followed her gaze. “It’s probably a squirrel. Too narrow up there for anything else.”

Natasha frowned. “Big squirrel,” she said, and pushed forward toward the barrier holding the onlookers back from the site and deeper into the density of the crowd. Behind her, Melinda spoke a code into her phone.

“HQ will give a heads up to the NYPD,” she said.

Natasha nodded. Above them, the bands stabilizing the tree slackened as workers below locked its base into the stand on the ground. The branches continued to shake, up and down instead of the side-to-side swinging the wind caused.

Natasha pushed her way onto the ledge of a raised garden in time to see one of the officers stationed on the site cross from a cruiser to another cop by the gate, glancing upward once or twice as he moved.

Melinda tapped her hand. “It’s not anything more serious than mischief and it’s being dealt with,” she said.

Natasha stepped down again, hand resting hard on Melinda’s shoulder for support. “I’m not convinced.” 

“It isn’t that I don’t trust your instincts,” Melinda said. “But I think in this case, they’re making you avoid the conversation we were having.”

“I will help you decorate the tree you’d like to put up,” Natasha said, pronouns perhaps more pointed than they needed to be, and eyes still on the tree above.

Melinda heaved a sigh and Natasha glanced over with enough time to catch the end of an eye roll. “Thanks,” she said, tone dry.

Natasha smiled at her. “And you’re taking your own car to buy it. I don’t want pine needles scratching my interior.”

The corner of Melinda’s mouth twitched and then lifted, more smirk than smile. “Yes, dear.”

Natasha twisted her lips in turn at the endearment, a sarcastic smile to accept that she had, indeed, deserved that one.

“So, bets that whatever’s up making that tree home becomes a S.H.I.E.L.D. problem?” Natasha asked as they departed, shouldering through the still-enraptured crowd.

“Who’ve you pissed off lately to make it your problem if it does?”

Natasha laughed. “Me? No one. Remember who my partner is.”

“I’m sure you’re never at all culpable in his pranks.”

“I believe the saying is ‘innocent until proven guilty’.”

Melinda paused in walking long enough to give her a long look, enough to say ‘ _Please_ ’ without any words at all.

Natasha smirked. “So, this tree.”

**Author's Note:**

> http://shieldivarius.tumblr.com


End file.
